D is for Dextrose
by MariatheWordsmith
Summary: Another alphabet challenge. Johnny just can't seem to wake up, is there a reason why?


The lights turned on as the wake up tones sounded through the bunk room. Six men groaned and rolled out of their beds, one literally. A thud sounded throughout the room. "You okay Johnny." an amused Roy asked, looking at his partner on the floor.

"Yeah, jus' rolled out." he replied, rubbing his elbow. Roy chuckled and started stripping his bunk.

Soon, most of the not awake, awake A shift was sitting in the kitchen. Coffee was brewing on the counter while tired firefighters watched each drop in anticipation. Johnny sat at the table filling out, or trying to fill out, end of shift paperwork. He stopped writing and rubbed his face again. He just couldn't seem to wake up, try as he might. The words on the clipboard in front of him kept swimming around. He picked up his pen, not remembering dropping it in the first place. As he adjusted his grip, it slid out of his grasp again.

"You alright?" Mike asked, filling out the same paperwork next to him. He had watched John drop his pen at least three times in as many minutes.

"Yeah." came the slow response. "How do you spell normal?" he asked the engineer, the word scrambling together in his brain.

The engineer answered frowning. "You sure you're okay?" he asked again. He was sure something was off with the usually eloquent medic.

"Jus' really tired." John replied looking at his pen strangely. He rubbed his face again, willing himself to pull it together. He watched Mike get up next to him. "_Lucky,_" he thought, assuming Mike had finished his paperwork, not noticing the clipboard still resting on the table. Johnny rested his head on his hand while he forced himself to look back at the empty form. He heard two pairs of footsteps walk through the door behind him. He didn't pay them any attention as he tried to write 'normal' down, the spelling still eluding him. Johnny sighed in frustration.

"Johnny, you alright?" the familiar voice of his partner asked while his hand landed on Johnny's shoulder. Mike was back in his chair, looking anxiously at the younger medic.

"Said I was fine Mike." Johnny said, his head turning to look accusingly at the engineer and ignoring his partner. Mike put his hands up in defeat and shrugged at Roy. Johnny decided to try and finish his paperwork, without his crewmates breathing down his neck. He picked up his clipboard and walked to the squad. Sitting down in his seat, he put the clipboard on the dashboard. "Jus' for a sec." he murmured, resting his feet on the open door and closing his eyes. A moment later he opened his eyes, "Hmm." he muttered. "I wonder." He got out of his seat and pulled out the drugbox. Inside he pulled out their brand new piece of equipment, the glucometer. Brackett had recently added the new invention to the paramedic's toolkit. The glucometer tested blood sugar levels using only one drop of blood, giving results in seconds. It drastically changed emergency treatment in the field.

Johnny pulled out the glucometer from the kit and opened it up, looking at the device. "Only one way to find out." He pricked his finger and waited impatiently. The machine beeped at him as it read the result. "Interesting..." Johnny said as the numbers beamed up at him. "That makes a lotta sense. Well," he sighed, "I'm not starting another IV on myself." he said, looking at the IV medication Dextrose they gave patients. He put away the glucometer and taped up his finger, "I hope someone brought donuts." he murmured.

Replacing the drug box he wandered back into the dayroom, leaving the clipboard behind. Inside, he tried to look casual as he opened the fridge. He felt himself swaying so he strengthened his grip on the door handle. The room was suddenly quiet. The entire A shift was awake now and watching him. He turned around, "What?" he asked.

"Whatcha looking for junior?" Roy asked. Johnny rolled his eyes at the concern.

"I'm hungry," he replied. Mike and Roy shared a look, they had a feeling that wasn't it. Johnny found some grapes. On his way to wash them, he stumbled, catching himself on the counter. John could feel ten pairs of eyes staring at him. "What?" he said accusingly.

"You don't look so good Gage." Hank said, speaking everyone's mind.

"I'm fine, jus' tired is all." John said defensively, slightly slurring his words. No one replied, just observed the stumbling man. After finally making it to the sink, Johnny started washing the grapes, popping them one at a time into his mouth.

When he finished the grapes, he instantly felt better. Everyone else noticed too, they hadn't stopped watching him. "Tell you the truth guys," Johnny said, giving into the glares, "My sugar was fifty four."

Roy looked shocked with a hint of fear in his eyes. "Fifty four?" he repeated unbelievingly. The engine crew looked scared, they didn't know what that number meant, but a scared Roy was never good.

"Yeah." Johnny said looking down. "Dunno how that happened."

"I'm gonna call Rampart." Roy said standing. The engine crew tensed, waiting for Roy's orders.

"No!" Johnny said urgently. Roy stopped in the doorway. "I'm fine." John defended himself. "Don't I look better Mike?" Gage asked with desperation in his voice.

"How do you spell normal?" The quiet engineer asked, in place of giving an answer.

"N-O-R-M-A-L." Johnny quickly and confidently replied.

"He couldn't spell it earlier." Mike explained looking at Roy.

"Look, how about I check you out, then if everything looks good I won't call em'."

Johnny slumped in defeat, "Fine."

When Roy disappeared into the bay, Stanley asked "What's wrong with fifty four?"

"Well," Johnny said, clearly launching into teaching mode. "Normal sugar levels are between eighty and one twenty. We treat if it's below seventy." Everyone's eyes got big.

"What happens when it gets low?" Chet asked, secretly terrified for his favorite pigeon.

Johnny continued teaching the nervous class, "Low sugar, called hypoglycemia, causes altered mental status, then unconsciousness, and eventually if untreated, death."

"Hypo-que?" Marco asked, struggling with the seven syllable word. Roy walked into the dayroom as everyone was reeling with the news, Johnny could've died.

"How you feeling Johnny?"

"He seems fine, talking about hypo-gly something or other." Hank said, giving up on the medical term.

"Hypoglycemia." Roy finished for him, pulling out the BP cuff and stethoscope. He passed the cuff and stethoscope to Mike, who was still sitting in the chair next to Johnny.

A few minutes later, Johnny's vitals were all taken. "Everything looks okay." Roy said, still sounding concerned. "I won't call Rampart, but come home with me, have some real breakfast."

"Aww Roy, I don't want to impose on you and Joann. I'm fine, really"

"If you don't go there, you'll have to come to mine." Captain Stanley threatened. Johnny looked between Roy and Captain Stanley.

"Only if Joanns okay with it." John said giving up. He knew he wasn't going to get out of this one.

Roy glanced at his watch, "I'll call her now." He turned his back and walked over to the phone. Johnny started packing up the drugbox out of habit. He noticed everyone staring at him.

"Guys I'm fine. I treated it before it was a problem."

"Before you figured it out, what did you plan on doing when you got home John?" Mike asked with a serious tone to his voice.

"Go to sleep.' Johnny replied, "Why is that a prob - oh." he said cutting himself off.

"Exactly, per what you just told us, you would've gone to sleep and not woken up." Johnny looked shaken for the first time that morning.

"That could've been bad." he finally said. He glanced over at Roy hunched over the phone. "I'll go with him, don't worry." he assured the group.

The start of B shift could be heard coming through the back door. "Oh!" he exclaimed. Everyone jumped, still tense. "Sorry." Johnny sheepishly said, "Gotta finish my paperwork." Everyone looked relieved and Mike rolled his eyes. Johnny sped out the door, trying to beat B shift to the squad.

Roy hung up the phone in the corner and turned around, "We're good for breakfast Johnny." he said to the Gage-less room. Roy looked around in a panic.

"He went to finish paperwork." Hank said to the stressed medic. Roy nodded and slinked into Johnny's empty chair, Hank handed him a cup of coffee.

"This is why I get grey hairs, not the job, the patients, or even my kids, but him." he said pointing accusingly to the bay while slumping in his chair. Everyone raised their coffee mugs in sympathy.


End file.
